To Hoist the Jolly Roger
by TheMixKage
Summary: Upon Hyrule's excessive tariffs leveled upon the colony of Termina, Terminians seethe at their perceived unfair persecution at the hands of the "mainlanders". Termina begins to sponsor privateer ships to quietly raid Hyrulian ports, and appropriate funds discovered aboard merchant ships. It is here Link de Ordon pillages in the name of equality, gold... and the Black Flag.


_The 7th Month, 14th Day._

_Year 1052 of the Goddesses._

* * *

The high seas. For many a poor fisherman, it served as a source of revenue, or if desperate enough, a direct food source in dire times. And it was indeed dire times in these parts of Hyrule. For the merchants who carted goods up and down the Great Sea between Hyrule and Termina, the seas served as a flow of wealth in good times. But good times were now long gone, serving naught but as past memories for fond reminiscing.

But for Link de Ordon, the high seas provided him with the sense of adventure that all youth such as himself craved. His profession served him well; it offered him a decent income and enough rum and meat to last him an entire raiding season. And the name of his profession? Some, although many could argue that any and all right minded people, called it piracy. Link prefered the word 'privateer.'

It was a good day. The wind blew steadily starboard side, towards the west. And that was exactly where Link wanted it to be; closer towards Hyrule, though not close enough towards shore to be spotted by a hawkeyed guard of some isolated stronghold. And Hyrule, was where merchant ships, risking life and limb for the comfort of gold coin clinking in their purses, tended to make berth after conducting illegal smuggling operations to Termina.

In recent years, the colony of Termina, first colonized by Hyrule, had become somewhat unruly towards harsh tariffs imposed upon them by their parent country. In response to minor cases of rebellion, Hyrule had dealt with their colony much like a parent with a rebellious teenager. They had tightened the already heavy levying of Hyrule tax collectors, and strengthened the military force currently stationed in Termina.

As could be expected, Terminian citizens had reacted extremely unfavorably. In reply, Termina had kept up their small rebellious actions in the public eye, actions that expressed their discontent with Hyrulian rule, but not enough to be labeled as a full blown revolution. In the safety of the shadows, and the few bureaucratic freedoms still endowed them by Hyrule, however, Termina had sponsored several mercenary ships to act as privateers in Hyrulian waters. The goals of such privateers was to stall out merchant ships sailing from Hyrule's port cities to inland areas via several key rivers, and to also...appropriate goods back to Termina whenever possible.

Link had been fortunate enough to have attracted enough attention from the Mayor of Clock Town, Kamaro Dotour, to be placed on the _Attano._ Eventually, he had worked his way up the social ladder aboard the Attano, achieving the rank of first mate. After a manner of years, the twenty four year old Hylian had achieved the coveted position of captain, or as it was known colloquially to all seafarers, the skipper.

De Ordon sat in his quarters, studying navigational charts. As captain, he was entitled to the bunkhouse sitting below the helm, offering him a smidgen better privacy to think and plan the _Attano's_ next attacks than the noisy berth section below decks. Looking on, Link stared at one of the landmarks marked on the map that they should be passing soon; in about two to three hours. It was called the Dragon's Pillar: an imposing rock face that jutted out from the mainland. Even several kilometers out, it was somewhat visible to the naked eye if one knew what they were looking for. And Link, despite his apparent youth, was well experienced in the ways of the sailor.

Gazing idly about, his view fell lazily upon a glass mirror mounted upon one wall. The mirror had been one of many...liberated, so to speak, from a Gerudo trade caravan. The others had been sold for a healthy profit in a Terminan market. Link studied himself in the looking glass. Friends close to his parents had said that he had inherited his father's strong jaw, and his mother's slim nose and fair skin. Unlike either of his parents though, Link had dark golden, almost brunette, locks that framed his face. Not that he would know though, both his parents having died in an accident many years ago in Ordon. So now he lived alone, losing his family title and instead using his birthplace as a surname.

His brooding was cut short immediately as Kafei Dotour, the mayor's son as well as the _Attano's_ first mate, knocked on the open door frame.

"Sir, there's something outside you should see," Kafei told him. His dark violet locks swayed slightly in the outside breeze. His face was dead set in a permanent poker face, one that he used to frighten the more junior sailors about the _Attano_. That or the vittles, being produced by a junior cook about the ship, were late in coming.

Link swung his booted feet off of the table, setting them to the ground with a loud clunk. Kafei was always down to business first. "What's going on?"

"I think you should take a look for yourself," Kafei told him. Link smiled; it was always like Kafei to refuse to state the obvious if it could be discovered by others. De Ordon stooped as he held the door to the cabin open for Kafei. They walked together to the wooden railing on the edge of the ship, and Link held on with one hand. His first mate handed him a telescope. Link took it, and peered down the length of the brass tube.

"Tell me, what am I looking for?" Link inquired. "Or, perhaps, where should I even be looking at all?"

"Northwest, near the Sleeping Sisters." The Sleeping Sisters were a series of stone pillars that, similar to the Dragon's Pillar, were easily visible. The Sisters, however, were not attached to any land. Their rather odd name came from their posture; the rocks were balanced atop each other in such a way that they almost resembled a line of veiled priestesses, heads bowed, if viewed from the right angle.

Link swung his gaze towards the Sisters. Squinting, he could make out the sails of an extremely large sailing vessel. He made out nearly six masts, which meant that the other boat was either fast, or, more likely, was heavy and needed the extra sails that the masts offered to maintain a reasonable speed. Which, by further reasoning, meant that the boat was a merchant ship full of goods, or de Ordon was a Goron.

"I see it," he said to Dotour. Dotour nodded, standing silently by Link's side. "Hoist the flag, Kafei. It's time to say hello once more to some Hylians."

Dotour broke his stone faced demeanor long enough to smile. "Aye, sir." He turned away from the railing of this ship and yelled orders at a group of idly sailors standing near the mizzenmast, or the mast that held the largest sail on the ship. They rushed to a spot in front of the mast and, seemingly as if by magic, pried away a small square of the planking that was made to blend in with the other planks to reveal a shallow indentation on the floor of the ship. Two men reached inside and pulled out a red cloth. The other two reached up and each grabbed a corner of the cloth. Walking backwards, they pulled the folded cloth open to reveal a large rectangle: a flag.

Contrary to many popular beliefs, that all pirates, or privateers, Link corrected himself, were smelly vagrants that drank excessively and flew black flags when slaughtering innocents upon the high seas, the black flag flown by privateer ships meant that the enemy crews could expect quarter given to ships that surrendered. A flown red flag, however, was much less pretty; it signified that no quarter was to be expected, nor would it be given. Link smiled. The Hylians had brought this upon themselves, and now they would pay the ultimate price for their mistake: with their lives.

Attaching the metal hoops in the flag to the rigging on the side of the mizzenmast, all four men hoisted the flag, pulling the rope down. They grunted with exertion as the heavy tarred sailing rope jerked quickly upwards. Slowly, the red flag reached the top of the mast. It fluttered in the wind gaily, reminding Link of an elegant exotic dancer. It was a beautiful thing; like looking upon the perfect, elegant angel of Death. And, in the absence of said angel, Link and the crew of the _Attano_ would have to do instead.


End file.
